


Worldwalker

by theinsandoutsofcastiel



Category: Constantine (TV), Lucifer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Multi, NSFW, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsandoutsofcastiel/pseuds/theinsandoutsofcastiel
Summary: Summary: You never felt like you belonged, not really. As a child, you’d moved from one foster home to another due to your ‘behavioral issues,’ but it wasn’t your fault. You never intended to start those fires, the flames just sparked to life at your fingertips without warning. You were still young when John Winchester found you. Despite the fact that you were a witch he decided to take you in and raise you as a hunter. Sam and Dean became your constant companions, brothers even. Still, even living with the Winchesters in the Men of Letters bunker, you feel the same pull you’d always felt; the one telling you that you belong somewhere else. The only respite you find from the nagging feeling is in your sleep when you dream of two strangers.
Relationships: John Constantine/Reader, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Reader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 210





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Hello! I hope I’m not being annoying, but I was wondering if you’re a fan of Lucifer (the Tom Ellis FOX/Netflix version) and Constantine (The Matt Ryan version). If so, I was wondering if you could write a Lucifer Morningstar x fem!reader x John Constantine crossover fic. If not, you should totally check these shows out! I know you write a lot of Supernatural so it could cross into that too if it would make you more comfortable (not to be pushy but I think it would be a great series if you’re up for it). Also smutty would be great! Thank you even if you don’t want to/can’t write this. You’re amazing either way!
> 
> A/N: I got this request a while ago and at the time I had watched Constantine but not Lucifer. I recently got around to watching Lucifer and I loved it! I hope you like the fic (this is my first time writing for these two) and thank you for getting me to watch Lucifer! I set this up to be a series and I’ll write more parts if there is enough interest!

Warnings: Smut, language

Fic:

The dreams had become more frequent lately, not that you mind. Something about them quiets that restless feeling inside you; that feeling telling you to run toward something, though you aren’t sure what. They make you feel like you’d finally found where you truly belonged. The two handsome strangers don’t hurt either. 

The dreams started several years ago. They were rare and didn’t last long. Normally you’d dream about one stranger or the other, but once in a while you’d get to dream about both. As time went on, the dreams lengthened and the details became sharper. You began to see, hear, and feel things as if you were really there; the touch of their fingers on your skin, the brush of their lips against your own, the caress of their breath against the shell of your ear.

You’ve come to know the faces of the two strangers like the back of your hand, yet neither has ever been so kind as to divulge their name. One is quite literally tall, dark, and handsome. Always dressed in a well tailored suit, he has dark brown hair and beautiful brown eyes that seem like they could pierce into your very soul; just a glance from him can make you want to divulge each and every one of your dirty little secrets, though you’ve been able to resist the urge so far. 

The other man is a few inches shorter than the first with dirty blond hair, dark brown eyes, and a crooked smile that hints at the fact that he’s always got a trick or five up his sleeve. His sleeve, and in fact his whole disheveled outfit by the way, resembles Castiel’s save for the red tie in place of Cas’ blue one. 

Both of your strangers speak with british accents, though different dialects, and have larger than life egos. They give you a sense of ease even though you can tell they’re dangerous. That danger is derived from the power you can feel coming off them in waves. You’ve gotten the impression that the blond is a magician of some sort and the other is something else entirely, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You’re not sure why your brain has decided to conjure up either of these strangers, let alone both, not that you’re complaining. Maybe it has to do with the loneliness you feel. Being a hunter doesn’t mix well with long term relationships; and being a witch with fire bound to spring to life at her fingertips at any moment also rules out one night stands. Your dreams seem to be a loophole. Neither of your strangers seems to mind the flames.

Heading to your room in the Men of Letters bunker, you shut the door behind you and lock it. You settle down in your bed and wait to drift off to sleep. It takes longer than you’d like, but the scene of your dream world slowly begins to form. 

You’re leaning against the railing of a balcony, overlooking the city of Los Angeles. A gentle breeze rustles the hem of the dress that your dream self is wearing. The city looks exactly like the Los Angeles you’ve been to in real life, but it feels different. It feels right. You’ve been to this particular balcony several times before and you know the dark haired man will be waiting for you inside. 

Turning and heading into the penthouse, you find the blond sitting at the bar, the dark haired man pouring a drink behind it. It’s going to be one of those rare dreams. You can’t help but smile to yourself at the thought. 

“Care to join us for a drink, Luv?” the blond asks. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” you reply as you gently run your fingers along the keys of the piano. 

“You can play it, if you like,” the brunet invites as he pours you a glass of top shelf scotch. 

“I can’t,” you answer, “Never learned. Having the curse of spontaneously lighting fires with my fingertips as a child wouldn’t have meshed well with piano lessons.”

“Maybe I can teach you sometime,” he adds with a brilliant smile.

“I’d like that,” you answer, “Anyway, what have the two of you been up to?” You move to sit at the bar and take a sip of scotch. The liquid burns as you swallow.

“Waiting for you of course, Darling,” says the man behind the bar, his smile turning into a wicked grin. 

“Waiting to pick up where we left off,” the other adds with that crooked smile of his and a wink, hinting at the last dream you’d had of him. 

“Excuse me. Where you’d left off? Without me, you mean?” the dark haired man asks, offended. 

“You’re here now so stop complaining,” the blond says before finishing off his drink and turning his attention back to you, “Now, if I remember correctly, you and I were both naked as jaybirds. I had you laid out across your bed, legs spread wide.” He stands from his seat and swivels yours so that you’re facing him. Running his hands up your thighs, he spreads your legs and moves to stand between them. “My head was buried between them,” he continues, “And the sounds you made were divine. Remind me, Luv, how many times had you cum already?”

“No need to answer that, Darling. It’s the quality, not the quantity of the orgasms that count, though we both know I’m far superior to him in both categories,” the dark haired man interjects. 

“Really, Mate? I have a mind to prove you wrong,” the blond replies. 

“You’ve tried before,” the other man replies with a bored sigh, “I’m not sure what you trying again will achieve.”

“Just because you’re -” the blond starts, but you cut him off. 

“Boys, please,” you interject, “Don’t fight. I hardly ever get to see you both and I want to take advantage of it.”

“Straight to the point, as always,” the man behind the bar says as he sets down his drink and moves to stand behind you, “I like it.” He has that look in his eyes, like a predator stalking its prey, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

“Finally, something we can agree on,” the blond states. 

The man behind you brushes your hair over your shoulder and begins pressing kisses along the column of your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access as you reach forward and fist your hands into the trench coat of the man in front of you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek as he leans in to kiss your lips; his other hand slides up your thigh and beneath your dress. 

A moan escapes your lips as his fingers push your panties to the side and brush along your folds. The friction, though ever so slight, causes heat to build within you. You close your eyes as the two strangers let their hands roam your body. It’s difficult to keep track of whose hands are whose; cupping your breasts, squeezing your thigh, tugging your hair, thumbing your clit, pulling down the zipper of your dress. 

Reaching behind you, you fist your hand into the man’s hair and tug. He makes a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan before you press your lips to his. Someone unclasps your bra, letting your breasts fall free of the cups. 

“What do you say we take this somewhere a little more comfortable?” the blond asks, and you agree. The men take a step back and allow you to stand, your dress falling from your body and pooling around your ankles. After ridding yourself of your bra, you’re left in only your panties and a pair of black heels. 

“You’re a vision,” the dark haired man tells you as his eyes rake over your body. The blond agrees, his tongue wetting his lips. 

“And you both have entirely too many layers on,” you say in response, “Take them off.” Both men smile and follow orders without a moment’s hesitation. As you ascend the short set of stairs to the bedroom, the men follow, eagerly shedding their clothing as they do. After slipping out of your heels and panties, you move to kneel on the bed. The silk sheets are smooth against your skin. Both men join you in a matter of seconds. 

Their bare skin is hot against your own. The blond takes his place in front of you, the brunet behind. You feel trapped between them, exactly where you want to be. Their lips press kisses to your skin, their hands grasp at you anywhere they can reach. You moan as they grind themselves against you, both already rock hard. 

“Do you like that, Luv?” the blond asks. He nips at the skin of your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. He’s the rougher of the two, always has been. 

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly. Threading your fingers into his hair, you tug hard and force him to look you in the eye before you kiss him roughly. 

“But it isn’t enough, is it, Darling?” the man behind you whispers, his breath caressing the shell of your ear, “Tell me, what is it you desire?”

“More,” you answer as you lean back to rest your head against the shoulder of the man behind you. He chuckles before telling you that you’re going to have to be a little more specific. “Fine,” you conceded, “I want to stay pinned between you just like this, and I want you both to fuck me. Is that specific enough, or would you like me to fill in the details?" 

"I think we get the picture,” the blond says with a smirk, “But where to begin?” Leaning down, he takes your nipple between his lips and sucks hard enough to draw a moan from you. His hand traces its way down your body and between your legs, fingers sliding along your slit. 

The man behind you pops open a bottle of lube. You’re not sure where he’s gotten it from, but since this is a dream you decide not to question it. He slicks his fingers and presses them to your back entrance before slipping one inside you. After a few thrusts, he adds another finger and stretches you wider. You moan louder as he fingers you, slicking you up and getting you ready for him. 

The blond thrusts two fingers into your pussy and curls them against your g-spot. They work in unison, each complementing the other. You grasp at them in order to keep your balance as you rock your hips. The friction causes the heat in your core to grow hotter, a knot just beginning to form. They’re both experts with their fingers, but you still crave more. 

“I need your cocks inside me,” you groan when you can’t take it any longer. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” the dark haired man whispers in your ear. You can hear the smirk in his voice. They both pull their fingers from you. As the man behind you slicks his cock with lube, the other pulls you tight against him and wastes no time filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” you moan as you adjust to his size. You thread your hands into his hair and kiss him hard as he begins to move inside you. He holds your hip tight, keeping you as still as he can as he thrusts up into you. His thrusts are rough, as usual, and they cause you to moan obscenely loud.

“Are you ready for more, Darling?” the man behind you asks. 

“Yes, please,” you answer as you break the kiss with the blond, who begins to slow his pace. 

Reaching behind you, you rest your hand against the nape of the brunet’s neck and draw him in for a kiss. He lines himself up with your back entrance and pushes into you slowly so that you can adjust, easing into you with each rock of his hips. You love the feeling of having them both inside you like this.

“That’s it, Darling,” he praises as he sheathes himself inside you, “You’re doing so well.”

You whimper at the praise and rock your hips, encouraging them to move. They oblige you. Their places conflict at first, but they soon fall into a rhythm that has you moaning and whimpering. 

You can’t quite tell where you end and they begin. Their hands are all over you. They kiss and nip at your skin. You can’t keep your hands off them, fingers digging into their skin and twisting into their hair. Grunts, groans, and praises fall from their lips as their paces quicken. The knot in your stomach twists and pulls tight as their cocks throb and pulse inside you. 

Heat continues to build within you until it reaches the point at which you can’t hold it back any longer. Flames spring to life at your fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, quickly pulling your hands away from the men. 

“You can’t hurt us,” the blond reminds you. 

“We’ve both dealt with worse,” the brunet agrees. Taking hold of one of your wrists, he brings your thumb up to his lips. He sucks the digit between them, putting out the flame. 

“Fuck,” you whisper as you watch the man suck each of your fingers in turn until the fire is completely put out. He’s never done anything like this before, and it excites you. 

Clearly wanting to regain your attention, the blond reaches down and circles your clit with his thumb in time with his thrusts. The sudden friction is nearly enough to send you reeling. “That’s it, Luv,” he praises as your walls flutter around them, “Don’t hold back.” His thumb presses harder, their thrusts falter, and soon the knot in your stomach snaps. 

The pressure releases as your walls clamp down around their cocks. Your body shudders, pleasure coursing through each and every inch of you. If you knew their names, you would have shouted them out. Instead you settle for a string of obscenities. You grasp at their arms in an attempt to hold yourself up. Their releases follow soon after; the blond first, then the brunet. 

They both grunt loudly as their cocks pulse, spilling their cum inside you in hot ribbons. The blond buries his face into the crook of your neck, teeth biting into your sensitive skin. The brunet’s fingertips press into your skin as he tries to draw you back toward him. Both continue to thrust, riding out their highs and prolonging your own. Finally they both begin to still. 

“That was amazing,” you whisper breathlessly as you rest back against the man behind you. They both chuckle. 

The dark haired man whispers in your ear, “If you thought that was amazing, just imagine if we -" 

Loud knocking startles you out of your dream. 

"Wakey wakey, Sunshine,” Dean calls through your door, “We’re going hunting.” Groaning in annoyance, you turn onto your side, pull up the sheets, and close your eyes again, wondering what the man in your dream was going to say.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has another dream about one of her handsome strangers. It starts off well, but it leads to new information that the reader wasn’t expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, John Constantine x Reader (only mentioned in this part)
> 
> Warnings: Smut, language

After a long day of hunting, you finally get the chance to sleep. When your dream world takes shape, you find yourself in an elevator, going up. You can hear him singing and playing the piano even before the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. 

“Hello, Darling,” the brunet says as you step out of the elevator. His fingers fall from the piano keys as he turns to face you. “I wondered if I’d have the pleasure of seeing you this evening." 

"Don’t stop on my account,” you say, closing the distance between you, “You know I love to hear you sing." 

"Is that the only thing you love about me?” he teases as you move to stand between his legs and drape your arms over his shoulders. His hands come to rest on your hips and he draws you in closer. 

“Well, that and all of the other things you can do with that wicked tongue of yours,” you reply, earning a devilish grin from him. He pulls you in for a kiss before turning back to face the piano.

“Sit,” he instructs, patting the bench beside him. 

“Are we waiting for Blondie or something?” you ask him. The nickname for the absent man earns you a smirk from the man at the piano.

“Not particularly,” he answers as you sit beside him, “But I did promise you piano lessons. Now, show me what you can do so I know what I’m working with." 

"Okay, but you’re going to regret it,” you warn. You’d played Happy Birthday on the piano once before when you were alone. The experience ended in flames, but you try your best to replicate the song. Your best is atrocious. The brunet does his best not to react too negatively, but you can tell that your lackluster abilities are about to drive him mad.

“We’ll start with the basics then,” the man tells you as politely as possible. 

“I did warn you,” you remind him.

“I’ll do better to heed your warnings in future,” he responds, making you laugh, “Now, first things first. Try to relax your hands and hold your fingers like this.” He shows you where to place your hands and begins to teach you the keys and notes. The first song he teaches you is the correct way to play Happy Birthday. “Now you’ve got it,” he praises after a healthy amount of practice. You’re halfway through the song again when your fingers begin to smoke. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, pulling your fingers away from the keys before they catch fire. You shake your hands to cool them down and ensure they don’t catch fire. “Like I said, my powers don’t exactly mix with piano lessons.”

“That’s quite alright, Love,” he says, taking your right hand in his and kissing your knuckles, “You can’t harm anything here.”

“I guess it’s just us tonight,” you say, trying to change the subject.

“Is that a bad thing?” he questions. 

“No, it just mixes things up when you’re both here.”

“Yes, well, as much as I love a good threesome, I quite enjoy having you to myself.”

“Why? Does having him around make you jealous?”

“Of course not, he simply rushes everything. I, on the other hand, enjoy savoring each and every moment with you. Not to mention each and every inch of you.” He brushes his fingers against your cheek and hooks one under your chin. You part your lips as he leans in and kisses you, slowly and gently. His lips linger on yours for a moment before he begins leaving kisses down your neck.

You run your hands up his chest, loosen his tie and begin to unbutton his vest and dress shirt. His fingers find the buttons of your own shirt and he presses kisses along your collarbone as he exposes more and more of your skin. Reaching down, you unbuckle his belt and open the front of his slacks. You try to slide a hand inside, but he catches your wrist. 

“Not so fast,” he chides, “Come with me.” Taking your hand, he prompts you to stand before leading you to the Italian leather sofa. You both undress each other along the way, leaving a trail of clothing between the piano and the sofa. He takes his time, hands exploring and caressing you as he leaves you bare before laying you down. With your right leg lying along the length of the sofa and the left hanging over the edge, the brunet has you right where he wants you. He kneels between your legs, taking the chance to rake his gaze over your exposed body.

His eyes are dark, pupils flooded with lust, as he settles down and presses kisses up your right thigh, then your left. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, nipping playfully as he gets closer and closer to your core. He teases you, making sure to avoid where you want him most. 

“Please,” you beg. Reaching down, you twist your fingers into his hair.

“Please what, Darling?” he questions. He looks up at you through his lashes, waiting patiently for an answer. 

“You know exactly what,” you insist, tugging his hair for emphasis. 

“I’m sure I do,” he responds with a smirk, nudging your clit with his nose, “But I’d still like to hear you voice your desires.” You squirm under his gaze, need building in your core.

“I want you to eat me out,” you groan, finally giving in.

“Is that all?” he questions. Lazily, he runs his tongue through your wet folds before taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. You hum at the sensation, tugging his hair in an attempt to direct him. Even so, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue before he pulls away, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Don’t stop,” you request, earning a brilliant smile from the man, “Please, don’t stop. I need you.” You know you’re giving in too easily, but seeing as it’s a dream, you don’t really care.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he purrs before leaning down to place teasing kisses across your lower abdomen. You squirm beneath him, trying in vain to find any sort of friction. Finally he moves lower. He draws your right leg over his shoulder as he begins to lick and suck. 

The brunet has a way with his tongue that never fails to get you worked up. Even from the beginning, it was as if he knew your body and all the tricks to get you going. He knows where to touch you, when, and for how long. He knows how to tease you and how to bring you right to the edge without toppling over. 

It isn’t long before the heat and pressure in your core begin to build. Your hips buck as he slips his tongue inside you, languidly exploring your walls and making you crave more. He moans at the taste of you. The vibration sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, which causes you to arch from the sofa. His hand slips from your hip and moves beneath you, grabbing your ass and pulling you toward him. He guides your hips in a steady rhythm, encouraging you to grind yourself against his mouth in order to find the friction you need. 

“Fuck me,” you moan as he nudges your clit with his nose and sends another jolt of pleasure through you. You’re right on the edge of orgasm, so close you can taste it. Heat prickles at your fingertips, threatening to burst into flames. He makes a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a groan before pulling away.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do, Darling,” he teases, leaving you aching with need. You whimper at the unfairness of it. “Oh, Love, you didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, did you? As I said, unlike our blond friend, I prefer to take my time.” 

“Don’t take too long,” you tease, “Dreams tend to end unexpectedly and I wouldn’t want to wake up disappointed.” 

“You’re right. We wouldn’t want that,” he replies. The man gives you another one of those wicked smiles before he shrugs your leg from his shoulder. He crawls his way up your body like a predator stalking its prey. As he moves, he leaves kisses in his wake. He nips at your skin here and there, laving his tongue over each spot to lessen the sting. 

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” you accuse. He’s caged you beneath him, the fingers of his right hand entangled with the fingers of your left. His hand presses yours to the cushion beside your head as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck and leaves more kisses. Each one is infuriating at this point. He knows exactly what you want, but refuses to give it to you. You decide to take matters into your own hands. 

Reaching down between you with your free hand, you gently trace your fingers along the underside of his cock. He’s hard, his tip leaking, and your gentle caress earns a groan. His hips rock toward your hand in search of more friction, but you make sure to deny him too much satisfaction. Running your thumb across the slit in his tip, you collect a bead of his precum and bring it to your lips. 

“And you call me a tease,” he chuckles as he props himself above you and looks at you with those gorgeous dark brown eyes. He watches as you take your thumb between your lips and suck, humming at the taste of him.

“Am I wrong?” you challenge.

“No,” he answers with a shrug, “I’m only pointing out that you’re just as devilish as me.” You can’t help but smile at his accusation. 

The brunet reaches down between the two of you and lines himself up with your entrance. You’re already sensitive and still aching, and you can’t wait any longer. Wrapping your leg around his waist, you draw him in. Your back arches as he pushes into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size as he fills you. You moan as he hits home, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

“I love that sound,” he whispers in your ear. His free hand tangles in your hair and he leans down to kiss you as he pulls back and slides into you again. Lifting your hips, you match his rhythm and try to keep yourself from quickening the pace. You splay your hand across his back, careful to avoid his scars. He’s never let you see them, but you know it hurts him if you touch them.

His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you grant him access without any protest. You fight him for dominance of the kiss as he continues his lazy pace. The more you fight, the slower he thrusts. You can feel each inch of his length as he moves inside you. The sensation, while pleasurable, is maddening and the heat prickles at your fingertips yet again. Moving your hand from his back, you fist your hand into his hair and tug hard enough to break the kiss. 

“Please,” you mutter as he rests his forehead against yours, “I need you to move faster.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he repeats his words from earlier. Capturing your lips again, he picks up his pace just as requested. 

“That’s it,” you praise him. His thrusts come faster, and just slightly rougher. The heat that has built up within you finally overflows. Flames flick to life at your fingertips and the fire spreads down your fingers and across your palms. Instead of jumping or pulling away, the brunet squeezes your hand tighter to reassure you that he’s okay with the flames. 

Your walls begin to flutter around him as he works you back toward the edge of orgasm. Each thrust draws you closer and closer, the knot twisting in your stomach and pulling tight.

“You’re close aren’t you?” he questions. You hum and nod in response. “Hold on just a little longer,” he encourages. You squeeze his hand tightly as you fight to hold back your orgasm. “You’re doing so well, Darling,” he praises. His voice is rough and his cock twitches hard inside you. He’s as close as you are and after a few more thrusts you find it impossible to hold back any longer.

“Fuck!” you shout as you come undone around him. He follows you soon after, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock and milking him for all he’s worth. His face nestles into the crook of your neck, muffling his words of praise and admiration as he spills himself deep inside you. He continues to thrust, working you both through your highs and the aftershocks, but eventually his thrusts slow and come to an end. 

Slowly, you begin to recover from your high. Your breathing returns to normal and the flames in your hands burn out. The brunet pulls out of you, but keeps you pinned beneath him. You can feel his come dripping from you. 

“You are divine, Darling,” he praises as he props himself above you. 

“And you’re disheveled,” you comment with a laugh as you take in the sight of him. His usual put together look has gone right out the window and you love to see him like this.

The man gives you a chaste kiss before heading to his bathroom and returning with a warm, wet cloth. He helps to clean you up before discarding the cloth and lying down on his side. You don’t put up a fight as he pulls you tight against him, your back against his chest. His fingers trace random patterns across your skin and he presses gentle kisses to the back of your shoulder. It isn’t often that your dreams last this long and you intend to take advantage of it. 

“Last time we were together, you were about to say something just before I woke up. What was it?” you question him.

“Something clever, I’m sure,” he responds. 

“Come on, you were about to tell me to imagine something; what was it?” you press. 

“It was nothing,” he answers, “I was just … I was going to say ‘imagine if this were real.’”

“Don’t go putting ideas like that into my head,” you laugh, “I know this is a dream and I’m not dumb enough to think otherwise.” 

“You’re right, in a fashion,” he concedes, “What we see around us is a dream, the sensations we experience are a dream, but that nagging feeling that we don’t belong anywhere but with each other, that’s real. You and I are destined to find each other. Unfortunately that bloody ‘Constantyne’ wormed his way in somehow, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“What do you mean? How could we find each other? You’re just a dream and so is the other guy, Constantyne or whatever.” Wiggling your way out of his arms, you sit at the edge of the sofa. The man moves to sit beside you.

“You always told me it would happen. There’d be a day when you didn’t know my name. You’d been invading my dreams for thousands of years and you always knew exactly who I was, until a few years ago.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m a real person, not a dream,” you say, panic beginning to grow within you, “And what do you mean by thousands of years? Who are you?”

The man huffs a laugh and muses, “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“Yeah? Well you’ve never asked me my name either; so who are you?” 

“You won’t like it if I tell you,” he warns, “You told me as much before.”

“Tell me,” you demand. The man hesitates before reluctantly giving you an answer.

“My name is Lucifer Morningstar, and I’m the devil.”

“Bullshit. You’re not the devil. My friends and I fought the devil and won.” 

The man calling himself Lucifer only laughs. “If you tell me your name and where you are, I can find you and prove it.”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell anything to a man who lies about being Satan?” you ask, thoroughly disgusted with your mind for inventing this dream turned nightmare. After what the real Lucifer did to you and your friends, you want nothing to do with anyone who even claims to have an affiliation with the devil. What’s worse is that, knowing how Lucifer got into Sam’s head, Lucifer may have found a means of worming his way into your subconscious, even from the cage. 

“I may be many things, but I’m no liar, Darling,” Lucifer tells you. He reaches out to touch you and you pull away, repulsed. There’s genuine hurt in his eyes.

“Don’t ever call me that, do you hear me?” you shout as you move further down the sofa away from him.

“If you told me your name -” he begins to suggest, but you cut him off. 

“No!” you shout, “Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head!” You fist your hands in your hair and pull your knees up to your chest, shutting your eyes tight. 

***

“Get out of my head!” you shout as you open your eyes and sit up straight. 

You’re in your bed at the motel that you and the Winchesters had stopped at for the night. Your heart pounds and sweat beads on your brow. Turning on the light beside your bed, you find yourself alone in the room. You slip out of bed and head to your duffle bag, rummaging around inside until you find your angel blade. It wouldn’t do any good if Lucifer did show up, but it felt like a little piece of safety. 

Grasping the weapon tight, you slip back into bed and take a deep breath as you try to calm your nerves. It was a dream, granted it ended poorly, but it was still just a dream. Lucifer is in the cage and he can’t get to you; but this man isn’t the Lucifer you know. He’s just some figment of your twisted imagination, surely that’s all.

Even so, you’re not eager to fall back asleep. If the man is real and truly is Lucifer, you’re afraid of what he might do to you not only in your dreams, but in the real world as well. Not to mention what the blond could do to you if he was working with or for Lucifer.


	3. Chapter 3

“Y/N, have you been awake all night?” Sam asks sleepily as he walks into the bunker’s kitchen. You sit at the table with a hot mug of coffee between your hands, desperate not to sleep. 

“Yeah, can’t sleep,” you mutter. You have no clue what time it is, but given Sam’s appearance, you’re guessing its early morning. 

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam questions as he sits across from you and runs a hand through his messy hair. When you only shrug in answer, Sam continues, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Really?” Sam questions, “Because you’ve been acting strange since our last hunt and I don’t think you’ve slept much since then either. Did something happen? Are you hurt … or your magic … you can talk to me, you know that right?” 

“I know,” you say with a sigh, “I just … I’ve been having dreams and I’m not sure I want to have them anymore.”

“Nightmares?” Sam asks.

“They didn’t start that way, but this last one was,” you admit vaguely. 

“Can I ask what they’re about?” Sam questions. 

“It’s stupid,” you say, trying to brush off the conversation, “They’re only dreams, I’m sure they’ll go away eventually.” You can tell Sam is torn between pushing you for answers and letting you end the conversation. Thankfully, before he has the chance to ask anything else, Dean walks into the kitchen.

“Morning,” he mutters, heading straight to the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup. “Thanks for the coffee, Y/N,” Dean says, already perking up a little. He takes a seat beside you before continuing, “So, what are we up to today? Anybody found any hunts?”

“I think we should take a -” Sam begins, but you cut him off. 

“I actually found something this morning,” you interject, “There have been a string of disappearances in New York over the last ten years, all revolving around this one alleyway. Apparently people walk in at night and don’t come back out. I’ve looked at video surveillance from across the street and the people who disappear all appear to be random passersby; but the weird thing is it looks like they’re talking to someone, but there’s no one there.“

"People hearing voices and disappearing down creepy alleyways?” Dean asks, “Could be worth a look." 

"Maybe you should sit this one out and get some rest, Y/N,” Sam suggests.

“Hey, I found the hunt, I’m damn well going to go on it,” you insist. Sam gives his brother a look and Dean just shrugs. 

“If Y/N wants to hunt, I’m not going to stop her,” he says. 

“Thank you, Dean,” you say, “When do you guys want to leave?" 

"After breakfast?” Dean suggests, “I can make some eggs and bacon before we head out.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, “I’ll start packing." 

* * *

You can smell the bacon as you finish packing up. You’ve already gathered the weapons you think might be helpful and now you’ve moved on to packing some clothes and personal items. You take a moment to look through your medicine cabinet, gathering things like your toothbrush and items for a makeshift first aid kit. With everything you need set out on the counter, you shut the medicine cabinet and look up. 

A scream escapes you the second you notice the blond man’s reflection in the mirror. You bring fire to life at your fingertips and spin on your heel ready to defend yourself. By the time you’ve turned to face him, the man has already vanished, if he was even there to begin with. 

“Y/N?” Dean shouts as he runs into your room, “What happened?” 

You quickly extinguish the flames, the smell of smoke still thick in the air. “Nothing,” you answer, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Is that really all?” Dean questions, “Sam said you were having nightmares, and he also said that you wouldn’t elaborate. I know we all say we’re fine even though we don’t mean it, so if you want to talk, I’m here and so is Sam.”

“I can’t tell Sam,” you begin.

“Can you tell me?” Dean questions. You nod and walk past Dean before taking a seat on your bed. Dean moves to sit beside you and waits for you to continue. You rest you elbows on your knees and rub your face between your hands, deciding where to begin.

“The dreams started a few years ago,” you tell him, “They were really short in the beginning, but they’ve gotten longer as time went on.”

“And they turned from dreams to nightmares?” Dean surmises. You nod in confirmation.

“The dreams, or nightmares, are always about these two men,” you continue. 

“Ah, so it started as that kind of dream,” Dean says with a teasing smirk.

You narrow your eyes at him and nudge him in the arm before continuing, “Yeah, well, I never bothered to ask who they were. I mean, they’re just these random strangers in a dream. I’ve never seen them before in real life, so their names didn’t really matter.”

“But something went downhill,” Dean adds, “So who were you dreaming about?”

“One of them is some sort of magician. His name is Constantyne or something like that. The name doesn’t mean anything to me, but the other man …” you hesitate before continuing, “He called himself Lucifer Morningstar and he claimed to be the devil. He doesn’t look like the Lucifer we know. I suppose he could have changed vessels, but he doesn’t speak or act like the Lucifer we know either.”

“You’re dreaming about Lucifer?” Dean questions, concern written across his face, “That’s why you didn’t want to tell Sam.” You nod again.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you admit, “I keep telling myself that it’s just a bad dream, but what if I’m wrong? What if Lucifer found a crack in the cage and found a way to worm his way into my head because I’m weak?”

“No,” Dean refutes, “That’s not true because, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you are not weak. Maybe it’s just a bad dream, like you said; but if not, we’ll find a way to fix it.” Dean wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, which you return.

“It’s not just dreams anymore though,” you admit, “I just saw one of them, the one I think is a magician, in the mirror.”

“That’s why you screamed,” Dean guesses. 

“Please don’t tell Sam,” you request, “He’s already worried and I don’t want to make it any worse, especially if they’re only nightmares.”

“I won’t tell Sam anything until you’re ready,” Dean promises, “But if it gets any worse, you can’t keep ignoring it.” 

“I know you’re right,” you admit.

* * *

After breakfast, you head out for New York with the Winchesters. You’ve been fidgeting the whole time, afraid that one of the men from your dreams might return during your waking life. Dean drives and Sam had called shotgun, leaving the back seat all to you. You fight your hardest not to fall asleep, but inevitably the rumble of the engine lulls you to sleep.

When your dream world forms, you find yourself in the entrance way of an old house you’ve never seen before. That restless feeling you’ve become accustomed to quiets down and you know it can only mean one thing. One or both of the men are here in this dream with you and you need to get out. Turning around, you grab the handle of the door and try to open it, but it’s locked. You can see a stone walkway and fountain through the glass of the door, but you know that breaking the glass might be loud enough to gain the attention of the men.

Frustrated, you give up on trying to escape your dream through the front door and head further into the house. You pass from room to room, the copious amounts of candles give off a dim light that casts flickering shadows. It’s while you’re walking through a living room furnished with antique chairs and a fireplace that you hear their voices. You press your back against the wall and try to stay quiet as you listen to their conversation of the men in the neighboring room. 

“I think I might have found her,” the magician says, as he paces back and forth with heavy footsteps, “I’ve seen dozens of versions of her on multiple versions of Earth, but I think this one recognized me. To be fair, I appeared at an inopportune moment and scared her like she was in a bad horror flick, but I saw recognition in her eyes and I’m fairly certain I saw fire before I lost the connection.” 

“It took you long enough, John,” Lucifer complains.

“Are you really going to criticize me?” John asks, “You’re the one who scared her in the first place and what are you doing to fix things now?”

“I scoured my whole Earth and found nothing. I spent time in Hell and asked all of my contacts in Heaven for help, searching for answers, and still nothing. Do you know why I’ve been dreaming about this woman for thousands of years? Or why she knew my name and then suddenly forgot everything about me? I certainly don’t know and I’d like some bloody answers.”

“What do you mean ‘thousands of years’?” John asks, “I’ve only seen her for about three.”

“Funny, that’s around the time when she forgot me,” Lucifer says in an accusing voice, “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do a bloody thing,” John says in response, “She invaded my dreams, not the other way around. I didn’t even consider the possibility that she was real until you started showing up in the dreams as well. Now answer my question. What do you mean you’ve been dreaming about her for thousands of years? Are you saying she’s immortal; or that she died at some point and was reborn?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Lucifer admits, “All I know is that when I fell from Heaven, I was scared and alone, and she was there. She’s been there on and off ever since.”

“Well she isn’t here now is she?” John says accusingly. 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Lucifer says, “She’s been here for a few minutes now. Can’t you feel it; like string pulling tighter the closer she gets? That nagging feeling calming down and telling you to stay put.”

Both men quiet down and you hear soft footsteps coming toward the door that connects their room to the one you’re in. In a panic, you pinch yourself in an attempt to wake yourself up. It doesn’t work. You turn in haste and begin to run, but as you do, your foot catches on the edge of a rug and you begin to fall. Before you even hit the ground, you wake with a start and find yourself in the familiar back seat of the Impala, gasping for breath.


	4. Chapter 4

You’ve finally made it to New York and found a decent hotel to stay at. Both Sam and Dean offer to share a room with you in case you have nightmares, but you refuse and opt for staying in your own room instead. The whole drive has caused you anxiety. You napped here and there, but never for very long and it’s wearing you down. In addition to your dreams, you keep seeing John more and more while you’re awake. 

Sometimes you’ll see him sitting beside you in the Impala’s rearview mirror. Other times you’ll see him reflected in a shop window or standing on the corner of a sidewalk smoking a cigarette. He’s just watching you and it makes your anxiety worse. You wish there was some way of blocking both men out of your head, but unfortunately your magic is limited to pyromancy. 

Settling into your hotel room, you decide to take a long, hot shower before trying to get cozy and watch some TV to relax. You turn to your favorite channel, but after a few minutes, the picture becomes fuzzy. The images blur and morph and static fills your ears. You’re about to get up and smack the side of the TV, but before you get the chance, John appears on the screen. 

“Can you hear me, Luv?” he questions.

“Get away from me,” you warn. You let your hands catch fire, ready to blast the television out of existence, despite the bill it will incur. 

“Ah, so it is you,” John says with a smirk, clearly amused, “Your world wasn’t exactly easy for me to find, you know.”

“Leave me alone,” you demand. His image disappears from the screen. “I’m going crazy,” you mutter to yourself, “It’s just in my head.”

“What did he say to you?” John asks from behind you. Spinning on your heel, you try to punch him as hard as you can, but your hand goes right through him. The image swirls as if it’s made of mist before reforming. “You can’t hurt me, Luv, and I can’t hurt you. This version of me is only an astral projection. I had to know that you were the real you before I expended my energy traveling to your world.”

“And how do I know you’re real and not just some fucked up part of my subconscious?” you question, flames still licking at your fingers.

“If I’m not real, then you have a very active imagination,” John says, “You might want to put those flames out before you set off the fire alarm. We aren’t in a dream anymore.” Reluctantly, you do as he suggests. “Do you know who I am?” he questions. 

“The man calling himself the devil said your name is ‘Constantyne’ or something like that. And from hearing you talk to him, I gather your first name is John,” you say, “Convenient. Did you think that calling yourself John would help you gain my trust?”

“It’s Constantine, not Constantyne,” John groans, “Lucifer bloody well knows that and yet the bastard persists in getting my name wrong. Anyway, you’re right, Luv, my name is John, though I’m not sure why that would make me particularly trustworthy. Can I ask what your name is, Luv?”

You begin to wonder how much, or how little, the man in front of you really knows. He doesn’t seem like he knows about your past, or about John Winchester, but it could all be an act. Either way, he’s still been working for Lucifer, or some version of the devil, and it makes you wary. You need to get out of this room, away from him.

“You can ask,” you answer, "doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” You begin gathering up a few weapons and throw on your coat as you talk. 

“I’m guessing that’s the same answer you gave Luci,” John says, “Where are you going?” 

“Out,” is your only reply. Leaving the hotel room, you shut the door behind you and cut off the man’s projection. Unfortunately, it does little good. The man simply appears again in the elevator with you, leaning casually against the wall. 

“Look,” he begins, “You want answers, so do I. How do you slip into my dreams?” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes. “I mean it,” he continues as he follows you from the hotel and down the street, “I never once used my own magic to find you in your dreams. You always found me. From what I gather, it’s the same with Lucifer. So who are you? A magician obviously, a powerful one at that; but what are your intentions?”

“To be left alone,” you tell him, “I didn’t ask to dream about you and I didn’t ask to see you now. I want nothing to do with the devil and if you’re working for him, I want nothing to do with you either.” You pick up your pace and so does he. 

“If you think I work for the devil, you are sorely mistaken, Luv,” Constantine tells you, “The only person I work for is myself and my own interests. It just so happens that my interest in you overlaps with his. That being said, if you don’t want to talk to him, I can arrange that. I won’t say that associating with me is safe by any means, but I am not the devil.” 

You don’t respond, but you do mull over what he’s said. Constantine continues to follow you, asking you for answers that you aren’t sure you could give him even if you were inclined to. As you walk, you bring yourself - and your tag along astral projection - closer to the alleyway you’re interested in. You don’t need a map. With all of your extra time spent awake, you’ve mapped out and memorized the quickest route between the hotel and the alleyway. 

You know you shouldn’t be going alone, but you can’t stay cooped up in the hotel room all night without sleeping; especially if Constantine’s astral projection is going to be bugging you all night. Besides, you aren’t technically alone. 

"Go away or be quiet,” you shush John as you reach the entrance of the alleyway, “I need to think.“

"What are you doing here?” he questions, looking down the deserted alleyway. You’re about to tell him to be quiet again, but another voice interrupts you. 

“Can you help me?” a child’s voice says from down the alleyway. The question sends shivers down your spine. 

“Where are you?” you question again. 

“I’m over here, can’t you see me? Please help me.”

“What do you need?” John asks. You look at him with narrowed eyes. In all honesty you hadn’t expected anyone else to be able to hear him, but much to your surprise the child answers. 

“I’m stuck. I can’t get loose. Please help me.”

You take a deep breath and bring fire to life at your fingertips. As you take a step forward, John becomes panicked. He reaches out to catch your arm and stop you, but the projection’s hand turns to mist.

“Don’t do this, Luv, not alone anyway,” he begs, “Something evil lives down there, I can feel it. Give me five minutes; I’ll make a portal and travel to your world and then we’ll fight this thing together.”

“There’s a kid down there who needs to be saved. I’m not waiting and I don’t need your help or Lucifer’s. Stay out of my head,” you say. You swipe your hand through the image, making it disappear in a haze of mist. 

Turning your attention back to the alleyway, you take a step inside. Despite your fire, the darkness seems to close in around you. Shadows dance on the brick walls to either side of you and you could swear some of them look human. 

“Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just a little further, can’t you see me?”

“No,” you answer, “What has you trapped?” Tentatively, you travel further into the alleyway.

“Can’t you see me?”

“Kid, if you tell me where you are, this would be a whole lot easier,” you tell them. 

“Can’t you see me? We can see you.”

“We?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. 

“We see you,” the child repeats.

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you will your flames to burn brighter. Looking frantically all around, you see nothing but flickering shadows. They’re distinctly human now, but they’re chased away by the light of the flame. 

“Please help us,” the child continues, “Put out the light.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not,” you reply, frantically chasing the shadows away from you with your flames. Dark, shadowy hands reach out from the darkness from all directions, fingers stretching out for you. 

“We don’t like the light,” the child says, “You won’t like it when you’re one of us.”

“Not now,” you mutter, frustrated at yourself as your flames start to die down. You scream as shadow hands begin to fist into your clothes and grasp at your ankles. 

“It’s okay to be afraid,” the child says, “People always think the darkness is cold, but it’s warm here, you’ll see." 

"No!” you scream as the hands tug and pull at you. You feel like you’re sinking down, down, down into the darkness.

“You’ll see,” the child repeats. 

“You’ll see, you’ll see, you’ll see,” is repeated in whispers and hisses from the darkness all around you. 

Before long, you’re scraping at the ground with your fingernails; fighting to escape from the quicksand-like darkness. 

“Get back!” you hear Constantine shout. He rushes down the alley with flames alive in his hand. He mutters incantations as he gets closer. The shadows hiss and retreat slightly, but keep their hold on you. “Take my hand, Luv,” John insists. 

Stretching out your hand, you reach for him. The second your fingertips brush his, everything changes.

It’s as if the simple touch has sparked a raging fire within you. Starting at your fingertips, flames lick at your skin, spreading quickly up your arm, across your chest, down your torso and back. Every inch of your body from toes to the tip of each strand of hair has caught fire in an inferno hotter than you’ve ever created on your own. 

You can feel power seeping into you, fueling the flames and making them burn hotter and brighter. The shadows scream around you as you find your footing and stand. Your flames beat the creatures back, bathing them in light they can’t recover from. 

The scene lasts only moments, but the seconds feel longer for you. The flames soon begin to die out, leaving your bare skin covered in the ash of your cremated clothing. John watches you with wide eyes, not daring to move an inch. 

“What the bloody Hell was that?” he finally asks.

You’re panting so hard that you can barely answer, “I don’t know.” A wave of exhaustion washes over you, causing you to collapse. John rushes to you, catching you in his arms before you hit the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident in the alley, Constantine gets the reader back to the hotel where he meets the reader's brothers.

“Who are you and what the fuck did you do to her?” you hear Dean’s enraged voice demand. You’re slow to come out of your haze, but you can tell you’re lying in bed back at your hotel room. The bed beside you is dipped down where someone sits, their hand holding your wrist as they check your pulse with two fingers. 

“I already told you, mate, my name is John Constantine and I didn’t do this; not intentionally anyway,” Constantine replies. 

“I’m not your mate,” Dean growls, “I know you’re the one who’s been pushing his way into Y/N’s dreams and turning them into nightmares. If you did this … I swear, if anything happens to Y/N I will kill you myself.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” John says, “Believe me, I didn’t want this to happen. I never wanted to see her hurt. I was only trying to get answers to my questions and when I saw she was in danger I tried to help.”

“Your help could’ve gotten her killed,” Sam says from beside you. 

“Don’t you think I already know that?” John retorts, “I hate myself for it.” Dean scoffs.

“You said you were looking for answers, to what exactly? If you’re the one causing Y/N to have nightmares -”

You groan loudly and groggily prop yourself up on your elbows before Sam can finish his question. You don’t want Constantine letting it slip that you’ve dreamt about Lucifer as well. Sam instantly turns his attention to you, and begins to ask you if you’re alright and if there’s anything you need. You admit you’re exhausted, but assure him you’re fine before sitting up and resting against the headboard.

Looking down at yourself, you noticed that someone had cleaned the ash off your skin and dressed you in a flannel shirt and a pair of shorts. The thought of how you’d gotten here and gotten cleaned up is mortifying. You pray that John had used a portal to get you here rather than carrying you naked through the streets. Maybe he’d used a spell to get the ash off of you as well. You try not to think about an alternative.

“You guys can see him?” you question. 

“You mean knockoff Castiel over there? Yeah we can see him,” Dean answers. He gives you a look and you know what he’s thinking. If one of the men from your dreams is real, then the other likely is too.

“Who are you calling a knockoff, mate?” John retorts, earning a dirty look from Dean. 

“Y/N, this guy says he followed you to the alleyway and you went in alone. He said you were attacked and when he tried to save you, you burst into flame,” Sam says, more a question than a statement.

“That’s true,” you tell him. 

“You’ve never done that before, have you?” Sam asks, “The fire, I mean.”

“No,” you answer, “I don’t know what happened. I was being pulled down by these shadow monsters and I reached out for John’s hand. His hands were on fire at the time, sort of like the way mine look; and the second I touched his hand it was like flipping a switch. I could draw on his magic and make it my own. My magic felt stronger than it’s ever felt before but I couldn’t control it.”

“We should’ve been there,” Sam says. 

“Please don’t give me a lecture on how dangerous it was to go by myself and how I should’ve waited for you. I know it was dangerous,” you sigh, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Of course we were worried,” Dean interjects, “Some stranger comes knocking on our door in the middle of the night, carrying a naked, unconscious you wrapped up in his trench coat and covered in ash.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat softly, casting your gaze down to your lap. 

“We’re just glad you’re safe,” Sam says, gently pulling you into a hug. 

Slowly looking up, you watch Constantine pacing back and forth, fingers playing with the cigarette tucked behind his ear. You know he’s dying to ask you questions again and he’s fighting to keep quiet and stop himself from intruding. There are a thousand questions you want to ask him too.

“You told me not to go down the alley until you could make a portal to get to me,” you begin, “Portals and astral projection I understand, but you said several times that you were from another world. What did you mean?”

“What, like an alien?” Dean questions. 

“I’m not from another planet, you nitwit,” John replies, eyes narrowed at Dean before giving his attention to you, “I’m from another version of Earth, similar to this one, but with minor alterations. There are multiple versions of Earth out there and multiple versions of you, Luv.”

“Is there a version of you here?” you question. 

“Most likely,” John answers, “Unless he’s died already, which is equally just as likely.”

“And is there a version of me on your Earth?” you press. 

“There is,” he replies, “I found her in hope that she was you, but she had never seen me in her life.”

“Sam, Dean, I need to talk to Constantine, alone,” you tell the Winchesters.

“Do you trust him?” Sam asks you. 

“No,” you reply, “not entirely, but he did try to save me and he brought me back to the two of you. If he wanted me dead, he could’ve left me there or killed me himself while I was unconscious.”

“I wouldn’t intentionally try to hurt you, Luv, you know that, right?” John asks. 

“No, I don’t,” you answer honestly. If he’s been working with Lucifer, there’s no telling what he might do. “But I want answers too.”

“Are you sure about this?” Dean questions. You nod in response. 

“I’ll be fine,” you tell Sam and Dean, “and I know you’re right next door if anything happens.” The two are reluctant to leave you alone with Constantine, but they finally give in.

“If you do anything -” Dean begins, but John cuts him off.

“I know, I know, you’ll kill me yourself. I get it, mate,” John says with a sarcastic smile.

You can hear Dean grumbling to himself as he makes his exit. 

“Your brothers are … charming,” John says. He grabs the chair from the desk and drags it to your bedside before sitting down. 

“They’re just protective,” you shrug.

“I’ll say,” John mutters, making you smile.

“Why me?” you finally ask, “Out of all the versions of me on all the versions of Earth, why make yourself a part of my dreams?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to ask you, Luv” Constantine answers, “Like I said, I never used my magic to find you, until now. I figured that you had to be the one calling out to me and to Lucifer too.”

"If you thought I was calling to you, why didn’t you try to find me sooner?” you question.

“I didn’t even realize you were real until Lucifer wormed his way into the dreams I had of you,” John tells you, “and even then I wasn’t sure you wanted to be found. You seemed content not knowing my name or how to find me.”

“Who are you really?” you ask him, “If I’m the one calling out to you, like you say, you have to be answering somehow. My powers only extend to pyromancy. I don’t know how to dream walk, not intentionally anyway.”

"Well, you know my name. I’m a master of the dark arts and an exorcist. I fight demons, monsters, and the occasional angel,” he begins. 

“And yet you consort with Lucifer,” you remark. 

“As do you, Luv,” John quips. You frown and Constantine instantly changes his tone. “Y/N … can I call you Y/N?” You nod your consent. “I don’t know why you dream about me or why I dream about you, but you have to admit there’s some sort of connection between us; a thread, if you will, pulling us together.”

“That’s how he described it,” you respond, “like a string pulling tighter the closer we get?”

“And that nagging feeling of never quite belonging anywhere finally calming down,” John adds.

“Do you still feel it?” you question.

“That nagging feeling is gone. The string though, I still feel it; but being here with you, the real you and not a dream version of you, it feels different,” Constantine confirms, “More tangible somehow; more substantial than a mere thread.”

“I feel it too,” you add. You aren’t ready to admit it, but being here with him feels right. That thread you feel between yourself and Constantine now is more like a flow of energy now, your magic mingling and intertwining with his. That tugging, nagging feeling you normally feel is only pulling half as hard and in a different direction, a direction you fully intend on ignoring because you know exactly where - or rather who - it’s leading you to.

“I get the feeling that I was meant to find you,” John admits, “as nauseatingly cheesy as that is.”

“Like soulmates?” you laugh. 

“My soulmate being someone from a completely different Earth who is terrified of me, doesn’t trust me, and is also bound to Lucifer for some inexplicable reason?” John shrugs, “Sounds about like my luck.” Your smile fades again. 

“Is he really the devil?” you ask. 

“He’s a devil, but not the only one and certainly not the worst. Just like there are multiple versions of you and I there are multiple versions of him, unfortunately.”

“You said that if I didn’t want to talk to him, you could arrange that.”

“I can.”

“How?”

“Magic. I can cast a spell to block him out of your dreams. He also asked for my help to find you, so my guess is he won’t be able to get here to find you without me.”

“So I would never have to see him in real life either?”

“I’m fairly confident I can make that happen, if that’s what you really want, Luv.”

“It is. I’ve fought the Lucifer from this Earth. I’ve seen what he’s capable of and it scares me. This connection I have with him, even if it’s a different version of him, I don’t want it. After everything the Lucifer I know has done to me and my friends, I want nothing to do with the devil.”

“I don’t know how the connection you feel to him works, so anything I try likely won’t get rid of that thread you feel. It’ll still be there, but he won’t be able to contact you.” 

“I understand,” you say, “and I can deal with that.”

“Close your eyes then, Luv,” John instructs as he rolls up his sleeves. 

You do as he requests and you hear him beginning to chant. There’s a flash of light and the spell is done. Just as John had warned, the nagging, tugging feeling doesn’t go away; maybe it even tugs a little harder, more desperately, but you try your best to ignore it. 

“Hopefully that will block him from your dreams, but if not tell me and we’ll try something else,” John tells you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. John gives you a half smile and reaches out as if to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but thinks better of it. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” John comments as he stands and grabs his ash covered trench coat.

“Don’t leave,” you begin, sitting up straighter. You’re not even sure why you had made the request, but a part of you isn’t ready to lose this man when you’ve only just found him. Besides, like him, you want to find out why you’re invading each other’s dreams and you’d rather work with John than the Devil in order to figure it out. For now, Constantine seems like the lesser of two evils. “This Earth, I mean,” you clarify, “I think you should stay and we should work together to figure out why we’re connected.” 

“I’d like that, Luv,” John agrees, “I’ll see if I can book a room for the rest of the night and we can talk more in the morning once we’ve both gotten some rest.”

After John takes his leave, you try to settle down and get some sleep. Even though you can still feel the pull Lucifer has on you, the calming feeling of having Constantine so close is enough to help you ignore it. It isn’t long before you drift off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you sure you trust him enough to take him back to the bunker?" Dean asks as you help him load the car.

"I don't trust him completely, but I trust that he’ll act in his own best interest. Right now I think that’s finding out why we have this . . . connection,” you reason.

"Yeah, I’d like to figure that out too," Dean mutters before adding, "and if you have a connection with this asshat, does that mean you have one with Lucifer too?"

"I’m not sure. Like I said, the man in my dreams didn't look or act like our Lucifer," you answer.

"Does that matter?" Dean asks, "The devil is the devil, no matter what form he takes."

"I thought the same thing," you agree even as that nagging feeling tries to eat away at your resolve, "Last night I asked John to cast a spell to keep Lucifer out of my dreams. It's worked so far, but I can still feel Luc-" you cut off your sentence when you notice Sam and Constantine walking toward the car carrying the breakfast they'd gone to buy.

"Here you are, Luv, just like you asked," John says as he hands you your drink, careful not to let his fingers brush your own. 

"Thanks," you say, taking the drink from John and your food from Sam. 

"Are we ready to head out?" Sam asks. Dean answers yes and shuts the Impala’s trunk without giving anyone else the chance to answer.

You claim your spot in the back seat of the Impala and John tries to get in next to you, but Dean grabs him by the collar of his trench coat and yanks him back. 

"Oi!" John protests.

"You're riding shotgun," Dean says before giving John a shove, "I don't want you setting Y/N's powers off - accidentally or not - especially in my car."

"Fine," John says with an annoyed smile, "I traveled between worlds to find Y/N, but while I'm here, why don't you and I get to know each other a little better?"

"Sounds good to me," Dean replies, clearly not appreciating Constantine's sarcasm. 

Sam grabs Dean's arm and pulls him away to have a private word as Constantine gets into the passenger's seat, sitting sideways so that he can see you over the back of the seat. "I know neither of your brothers really trusts me, but is there a reason Dean seems to hate me more than Sam?" John asks you.

"Dean doesn’t trust you because he knows that I dream about Lucifer too," you answer, "but Sam doesn't and it has to stay that way, do you understand?"

"I won't say anything about him around Sam," John promises, hesitating before asking, "Out of curiosity, what did the Lucifer from this world do to make you dislike the one you dream about? I know you said you fought him, but why?"

"He hurt people I love. He's heartless, manipulative, and he'll kill without a thought," you answer, "The things he did to Sam - it isn't my place to say, but I hate him for what he did to my family."

"I hate to admit it, but the Lucifer you dream about isn't like that," John says, "He isn't evil incarnate and he doesn't go out of his way to hurt people. If nothing else, he's honest to a fault; which is more than I can say for myself. The last time I spoke to him, he was hurting. He thinks he's lost you and it's killing him."

"Why are you defending him?" you question.

"I'm not," John says, "You're right, he's the devil, but I think you deserve to know about him. He deserves to be judged based on his own actions, not on those of someone with the same name. If he's tethered to you the way I am, you must be curious."

You're about to respond, but decided to keep your comments to yourself as Sam gets into the car next to you. Dean takes the driver's seat and brings the car to life. You're not sure what Sam had said to Dean, but the older Winchester doesn't look happy.

"Right, ground rules," Dean says as he heads towards the highway, "First off, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. Second, don't drop any food or spill your drink in my car. Third, if you ask Y/N a question or make a remark she doesn't like, if you so much as look at her the wrong way, you're gonna regret it, got it?"

"You do understand that I'm a very powerful sorcerer, correct?" John asks, "I can fight back if I need to."

"I've fought worse than you, Harry Potter," Dean bites back.

"Dean!" Sam chides at the same time as you. 

"Nobody is fighting anyone," you add, "Can we all just try to get along until we can get to the bunker and figure this situation out?"

"That sounds like a good plan to me," Sam agrees with you, nudging his brother to prompt him to agree too.

Dean's knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel tighter, but he finally gives in. He grabs his breakfast burrito from his bag and starts eating, clearly stewing in his anger.

"This bunker, is it the one in our dreams?" John asks you. 

"'Our dreams'?" Sam questions, "I thought Y/N was the one dreaming and you were finding your way in."

"From my perspective, she was waltzing into my dreams," John answers, "I used to have nightmares mostly, but about three years ago I started dreaming of Y/N. At first I thought she was someone my subconscious created to make me feel safe, or maybe someone the Sandman had conjured up, but after I started dreaming about her and Lu- . . . and her life in the bunker, I knew she was real."

At the near slip of Lucifer's name, your fingers light up. Thankfully, you're able to ball your hands up and smother the flames before anyone notices.

"So you're sort of bound together, across worlds, like cosmic soulmates or something?" Sam posits. Dean makes a gagging sound that makes you roll your eyes. 

"That's what we guessed," you tell Sam. You grab your breakfast and begin to eat before it gets cold, hoping that the food will distract you enough to keep your hands from catching fire again.

"It's more than just that though," John says, "I can feel her magic, like a sort of feedback loop. She draws on my magic, making her stronger and I draw on hers, making me stronger."

"I feel it too," you admit, "and frankly it scares me. Just touching my hand caused me to combust and that was before this feedback loop, or whatever it is, even started."

"Your magic, where did you learn it?" John asks you. 

"It wasn't something I learned, I’ve had it since I was born," you answer, "It must've scared my parents because they put me up for adoption. I was never very good at controlling my powers, so I went through a bunch of foster homes until John Winchester found me and took me in."

"I'm sorry," John says, "I didn't mean to -"

"It's all right," you tell him, "I'm not mad or upset by it. If it hadn't happened, John wouldn't have found me and I wouldn't have the family I have today." Sam reaches over and squeezes your hand. "Where did you learn your magic?" you ask him.

"Here and there," John answers, "Books, cults, other magicians."

"Cults . . . like the kind that worship Satan?" Dean asks accusingly as he narrows his eyes, causing Constantine to laugh. Sam tenses at the thought.

"Trust me, Mate, I never have nor will I ever worship the devil," John assures. Sam seems to relax and you squeeze his hand in return to reassure him.

"Could you teach me?" you ask John. 

"I could," he responds, "but it's dangerous. Practicing my type of magic always has a price."

"Being a Winchester has a price too," you comment, "It could be useful to know a spell or two, something I can control better than the powers I have now." 

"What if I could help you control them?" John asks, "Perhaps I could act as a buffer or some sort of magical storage system. If we're bound for a reason, maybe that's it."

"To make each other better wizards?" Dean scoffs.

"You never know," you shrug, "Maybe it was my magic reaching out because I need help."

"Bullshit," Dean says, "You don't need help from him." 

You know full well that he's referring to Lucifer and not Constantine, but John doesn't and takes offence. 

"How would you know?" Constantine asks, "Do you have a bond to her as well?"

"I don't need to have some sort of celestial bond with her to know that she can handle herself," Dean says, "I know that she doesn't need help from you or anyone else."

"Will you two stop fighting?" Sam interjects.

"I was the one who suggested I might need help, maybe it's true and maybe it isn't, but if I can learn to control my powers better than I can now, it can't hurt," you say, "I have no clue why I'm bound to John, but I don't want to limit the possibilities until I know for sure."

"Hopefully there's something in the bunker that can give us a clue," Sam adds.

"If we can make it there before someone tears someone else’s head off," you mutter. 

"I think we should ask Cas," Dean comments, "If you are bound by some sort of soulmate crap, he might know about it."

"Who is this Cas?" John asks, "Is he the Castiel you accused me of being a knockoff of?"

"Yeah," Dean answers shortly.

"He's a friend," you tell John, "An angel; and to answer your original question, yes. The bunker we're going to is the one in our dreams." 

It feels right to call them 'our dreams.' They aren't just yours anymore, they’re shared. Unfortunately, you know that means they're also shared with Satan. 

***

After the long journey back to the bunker, you're exhausted but eager to figure out why you're connected to Constantine . . . and Lucifer. 

John sits across from you at the library table, flipping through one of the many books. His trench coat is laid over the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up. Sam searches the internet for theories and you can hear Dean calling Cas in the hallway. 

You try to focus on the book in front of you, but that ever present tugging from Lucifer is there to distract you. It’s becoming more and more insistent, pleading to be acknowledged. A deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

"Y/N?" Cas asks. You hadn't heard him arrive. "Are you all right?"

"Bloody Hell," John comments, taken aback by Cas' arrival. 

"Hey, Cas, I'm fine, thanks for coming," you respond. 

"I'm happy to help, though I’m not sure there's much I can say or do. Dean explained your situation. Is that him?" Cas indicates John and you nod. 

"John, this is Castiel, Cas this is John Constantine," you introduce them. 

"You look like you've raided my wardrobe, Mate," John comments, looking Cas up and down. Cas frowns and tugs at his tie before turning his attention back to you.

"Why would you ever think this man was your soulmate?" Cas questions, making Dean laugh. 

You narrow your eyes at Dean before answering, "I don’t know, I dreamed about him before I even met him. Is something like that possible for soulmates?" 

"Possible? Yes. Likely? No," Cas answers, "Some people are destined to be together for specific reasons but this seems extreme. I've never heard of God creating two people for each other and then putting them on alternate versions of Earth, let alone the fact that there were multiple Earths to begin with."

"Seems like one of the many cruel jokes God likes to play on me," Constantine grumbles. 

"Say it's true," you press, "Say Heaven planned for us to find each other. How are soulmates usually drawn together?"

"Cupids conduct that sort of work," Cas explains, "but typically circumstances are set up so that the two people cross each other's paths and connect." 

"So they aren't instinctively drawn together beforehand?" Constantine asks. 

"Not from what I understand," Cas answers, "From what Dean has told me, your situation has less to do with Heaven and more to do with your magical abilities."

Cas' assumption is both comforting and disturbing at the same time. If you aren't John's soulmate, then you aren't Lucifer's soulmate either. Still, you’d seen how your magic reacted to Constantine. How would it react to Lucifer Morningstar?


End file.
